


The God of Gentle Death

by MsThunderFrost



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Breaking Up & Making Up, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Constipated Thanatos (Hades Video Game), Established Relationship, Hades (Has Moments) Where He Is A Good Parent (Hades Video Game), Hades Spoilers (Hades Video Game), Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Love Confessions, M/M, Makeup Sex, Men Crying, Soft Thanatos is Soft (Hades Video Game), Thanatos Needs a Hug (Hades Video Game)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:48:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27188180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsThunderFrost/pseuds/MsThunderFrost
Summary: “My lord, he and I… please. Go lock me up in Tartarus, or deal whichever justice you see fit. But, my loyalty is not subject to change. And I cannot stand by and watch you fight. The matter between you and Zagreus… there has to be some resolution, here.”Zagreus overhears a conversation between Thanatos and his father that sets into motion an absolutely disastrous chain of events--because breaking up with Thanatos is definitely for the greater good, right?Right.
Relationships: Thanatos/Zagreus (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 725





	The God of Gentle Death

Zagreus never asked Thanatos to aid him in his escape attempts. He also never tried to talk the older out of their little ‘competitions’, never considered the harm that he could be causing by allowing Than to continue to aid him in his efforts to defy his father’s will and escape his realm.

He wanted to be with his mother so badly, wanted to know her—to know why he hadn’t been enough to make her stay. He wanted to know that he had at least _one_ parent that cared about him, that _wanted_ him—

Zagreus’d thought, if he could just keep his mouth shut, he could preserve these precious moments of respite—he could keep heading into each attempt with the hope that Than would grace him with his presence, would initiate one of his little ‘competitions’ and help him send the hoards of wretched dead back to their eternal rest, would press a soft, cool kiss to his sweat- and blood-slick skin and tell him that _the path is clear, now go_. Achilles, Nyx… they all had faith that he would reach the surface eventually, but Than stuck his neck out farther than most to help him achieve that goal. And Zagreus’d taken him for granted, taken his _actions_ for granted, foolishly believing that his father would never discover the truth if he just _kept it a secret_.

He should’ve known by now that life is never that simple…

“My lord, he and I… please. Go lock me up in Tartarus, or deal whichever justice you see fit. But, my loyalty is not subject to change. And I cannot stand by and watch you fight. The matter between you and Zagreus… there has to be some resolution, here.”

Than’s lectured him about eavesdropping often enough that he knows he shouldn’t be here—he’s not exactly being subtle, either, hovering a little ways behind Than’s floating form, close enough to reach out and lay a comforting hand on the small of his back, to feel the perpetual chill that lingers on his skin emanate through his robes. Zagreus’d never considered what would become of Thanatos if his role in his escapes was ever discovered, because… because if he didn’t allow himself to think about the potential consequences of his actions, of _their_ actions, then they didn’t exist. He realizes in that moment (watching as Than flinches when Hades shouts at him with such intensity the very floor seems to quake—even Cerberus looks nervous) that he has been unbelievably _selfish_.

“I’m… sorry, my lord.”

Than shouldn’t be the one apologizing. Zagreus feels like he’s been doused with a bucket of ice water, his stomach twisting, _cramping_ , the pain somehow more severe than when he dies of ‘natural causes’ up on the surface. All of this could have been avoided if he’d just been a little more considerate of the uncomfortable position that Thanatos is in—as much as he loves Zagreus, he is still beholden to Hades as lord and master of the House. And Hades has the power to make the rest of his immortal existence a living hell. If Than had been cast into Tartarus because of him…

“Erm, Than…? Would I be able to talk to you for a second?” When Thanatos looks at him, his face is schooled into the cold, expressionless mask he’d worn when they’d first met out in Elysium. Ahh… it was _really_ bad, then.

“I… I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to be seen together right now, Zag. I may have escaped your father’s wrath this time, but it would be unwise to continue to ‘poke the bear’, so to speak.” There’s a sharp edge to his voice that cuts through Zagreus like the blade of his father’s forked spear.

“I… that’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.” He moves over to a secluded corner of the lounge, expecting Than to follow. After a moment, he does, albeit hesitantly. “Listen, I… I just wanted to let you know that I didn’t say anything. To him or… well, to anyone, really.”

Thanatos is silent as his molten eyes study Zagreus’ features, reading the guilt that is so clearly written across his face. Finally, his shoulders slump a little bit, “I know that, Zag. You may be careless at times—,”

“Hey!” But Zagreus has no defense, and they both know it, and he almost immediately comes to heel.

Thanatos sighs, “I… have my suspicions about how he found out. But there’s no point in dwelling on it now that the secret’s out—mere speculation will get us nowhere, after all.”

Zagreus shakes his head, “I hate the idea of you being punished because of me—,”

“I made my own choices, Zagreus. You cannot take the blame for something that _I_ chose to do.” He seems to be forgetting that he’d tried to convince Zagreus to stop attempting his escapes before he caused irreparable damage, that he’d acknowledged that _he’d_ made the choice to involve himself in Zagreus’ affairs, but others weren’t so lucky—

_I’m trying to find my mother. You still live at home with yours_.

How many others had been dragged into this mess who simply didn’t have a choice? Achilles, whom his father had brought in to train him, had received a proper verbal lashing after Zagreus had managed to escape the Underworld the first time. Meg’s performance was under review (and he assumed that of her sisters’ as well, though it was difficult for him to tell for sure, considering that they weren’t allowed in the House), and he didn’t even want to begin to think about the kind of punishment his father would dole out if her performance continued to be subpar. Even if it _was_ her job to kill him… it was her _job_. She’d made it clear on several occasions that she wouldn’t be going out of her way to do it otherwise, so he didn’t see any reason to hold a grudge. But still…

Neither of them had asked to be brought into this mess. They were just doing their jobs, and were faced with the unfortunate reality of being inside of the prince’s sphere of influence. How many others had been hurt by his actions? How many others had had their choices taken away because of _his_ actions?

How many others had been berated by his father while he’d been away, attempting to make it to the surface to see a woman that he knew next to nothing about?

How many had he deemed disposable enough to cast into the pits of Tartarus?

“I… think that we should end this, Than.” He doesn’t even know what he’s saying, feels like his mouth is filled with cotton. “Forgive me, I know how you feel about me eavesdropping on your private conversations, but… if being with me is going to strain your relationship with my father—,”

Than stares at him blankly, “My relationship with your father is important, yes. But since you’ve already admitted to eavesdropping, surely you _also_ heard me say that my loyalties will not change. There is no conflict here—,”

“Except there is, because you’re helping me to escape my father’s realm—an act which he has expressly forbid.”

He blinks slowly, “I’m blowing off some steam sending a select number of shades to their second deaths. You’re the one who’s always telling me that I carry too much stress—consider this a new method of stress relief.” Well, that’s certainly one way of putting it. “If you just so happen to be in the same room while I’m there killing shades, then…”

“You shouldn’t have to protect me all the time, Than. I… can’t you just let me protect you for once?” Zagreus pleads.

“If it means allowing you to break up with me over your father’s bull-headedness, then no. I’m afraid I cannot allow you to ‘protect’ me.” Than frowns, “Lord Hades cannot hurt me, Zagreus.”

“I… really don’t want to test the validity of that statement.” He’d heard about what’d happened to the Titans. He shudders to think of Than sharing a similar fate… or one far worse.

Their eyes meet. Tears are brewing in Zagreus’ mismatched eyes as he wills his friend, his _lover_ to understand why he is doing this. Than’s body goes stiff for an entirely different reason, “…Why are you doing this? Why _now_? I’ve been helping you for _months_ , and _now_ you decide to have a crisis of conscience over it?”

_That’s_ all it takes for the tears to start spilling over his cheeks, “G-Goodbye, Than.”

He’d expected Thanatos to disappear after that. Vanishing _is_ his preferred method of ending a conversation, after all—especially those that’re particularly difficult for him to stomach. But he just… continues to float there, his face that same unreadable mask. Zagreus can’t help but feel like he’s waiting for him to come out and say that this was all some sort of cruel joke, that he didn’t mean what he’d said—didn’t mean to hurt him. And Zagreus… gods, everything inside of him is itching to take it all back. To smile and shove Than’s shoulder playfully and tell him that he’d just been playing around. To act like he can’t actually _hear_ the god of death’s heart _breaking_. Silently, he reminds himself that he’s doing the right thing, even if it doesn’t _feel_ like the right thing—

How can it be the right thing, when Than is looking at him like _that?_ This is so much worse than their first encounter in Elysium, when he’d thought that Than was stepping out of his life forever because he’d made a _stupid_ mistake in trying to leave without saying goodbye. This is so much worse, because Than is trying so desperately to _stay_ —

And he’s just not letting him.

“Goodbye.” He says again, firmer this time. Maybe… Maybe, if he says it enough times, it’ll make his chest stop aching like he’s been run-through by his father’s forked spear. Maybe he’ll convince himself that he can actually stay away from Than—

Maybe he’ll convince himself that it’s not too late to save him from his father’s wrath.

He leaves before Than can respond, though he’s fairly certain that Than doesn’t have anything to say to that. He only hopes that Than can understand that he’d only done what he’d should’ve done long ago. He should’ve told Than, in no uncertain terms, that he didn’t need, didn’t _want_ his help—

He shouldn’t have assumed that they were safe just because he’d helped him so many times before without being found out. The only thing that they’d ever successfully kept secret in the House was slowly unraveling around them. Every competition… Every kiss… Every promise of something _more_ waiting for him when he inevitably found his way home… Every last part of it had been bought on borrowed time.

Thanatos deserved better then, and he deserves better now. And if this is all that he can do for him, well…

He decides to do another run.

* * *

Meg makes short work of him. He’s not surprised—he’s not actually paying attention to her, to her movements. He keeps dashing directly into the danger zone, placing himself directly into the path of her whip. He also hadn’t bothered accumulating any centaur hearts along the way… all in all, he makes a rather pitiful showing, and when he crawls back out of the River Styx the Fury lets him know _exactly_ how she feels about it.

“Are you mocking me now, Zagreus?” He recalls their last conversation, where Meg had complained that he didn’t even stick around long enough to _gloat_ after his victories. “That was absolutely _pathetic_. You didn’t even _scratch_ me.”

Zagreus frowns, “Nothing of the sort, Meg. You won that bout, fair and square. I’ll beat you the next time.”

She narrows her eyes at him, “Is this about your little lover’s spat with Thanatos?”

He raises an eyebrow—gods, can he not even break-up with his boyfriend without the entirety of the Underworld knowing about it? He doesn’t remember everyone being this nosey when his and Meg’s relationship hit the rocks. “Lover’s spat… I suppose that that’s a nicer way of saying break-up.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” somehow, he knows whatever it is that is about to come out of Meg’s mouth won’t make him feel better at all. “He isn’t taking it any better than you are. I haven’t seen him in the House ever since Lord Hades laid into him for aiding your little escape attempts—,”

Zagreus frowns, “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about how my father found out about that, would you, Meg?” It’s a shot in the dark, but… all he’s been thinking about since witnessing his father laying into Than is how vocal Meg had been about her disgust at the fact that Than was helping him escape.

“What exactly are you implying, Zag?” Her voice takes on a dangerous sharpness, like a razor’s edge.

“I’m not _implying_ anything.” He says levelly. “I’m _asking_ you, outright, if you had anything to do with Thanatos’ verbal dressing down in the Great Hall. I know news travels fast in the Underworld, whether you want it to or not—,”

“I may not approve of Than’s actions,” she hisses, each word carrying with it a borderline suffocating heat, “but I am not so _petty_ as to go running to Lord Hades over every little thing. You’ve still managed to die, what? _Forty_ times, despite having Death at your beck and call? He can’t be all that helpful—or maybe you’re just that _weak_.”

Zagreus relaxes—just a bit, “I… I understand, Meg. I just… I’m sorry, I’m not at my best right now.”

“Clearly.” After a moment, she seems to calm down a little, “Cast your baseless blame somewhere else.”

He thinks about taking Mort out there with him. He knows that he doesn’t deserve to use Than’s summon, not after everything that he’d done, everything that he’s _said_. He just… He’s so desperate to do right by him, to protect him from his father’s wrath, and yet… He remembers how Thanatos had stood before his father’s desk, so clearly nervous and yet… emanating a quiet confidence that seemed to make him that much more _radiant_. It’d been like watching a man taunt a rabid dog, confident that he was standing _just_ far enough away that the dog could not reach him, even at the full extent of its leash. He knew that Hades couldn’t, _wouldn’t_ , hurt him. If only because he didn’t have anyone else that could do his job—

And yet… he’d still been willing to let Hades cast him into Tartarus, to spend the rest of his days toiling alongside the wretched dead, to be with Zagreus. To continue to _aid_ Zagreus. And how had he thanked him?

_Goodbye, Than._

_Goodbye_.

He does another run. And another. It takes until the third attempt for him to make it to the Temple of Styx. His father blocks the exit from the Underworld, as per usual. There’s so much that he wants to say to him, so much that he wants to _prove_ to him. He’s desperate to show him that he can beat him on a run without Than’s assistance, but Theseus had been feeling particularly _inspired_ this go-round, and he’s hanging on by a thread. He simply can’t _focus_ , not when he spends every free moment (and most of the moments that’re otherwise occupied by attempting to _not_ be decapitated, or otherwise maimed, by the wretched dead) wondering about Thanatos. Has he been occupied by work all this time, or is he simply avoiding him? Is he hiding away in the Underworld, or is he somewhere on the surface?

_Pathetic_.

His father’s voice resounds in his ears as he sinks into the River Styx, in too much pain to think about how many times he’s died by his father’s hand—it has to be nearing the double digits, now. He’s thankful that his father is still up in the Temple: he’s not in the mood for his special brand of condescension, not now. Instead, he drags himself over to Achilles, who regards him with a grim smile.

“I have heard that you have broken things off with Thanatos, lad.” Achilles voice is soft, soothing. Zagreus is well-aware of the fact that there is no hidden judgment there, and yet it makes something inside of him _ache_ , all the same.

“I… Indeed I have, sir. It would seem that news travels fast.” He’s not surprised that his mentor would know about his change of relationship status. He’d caught Achilles and Meg ‘disposing of contraband’ together often enough to overhear some of the morsels of gossip that’re spread once nectar loosens the lips.

“Is this because of what transpired between Thanatos and your father?” He asks.

Again, going right to the heart of the matter. Sometimes, he thinks that Achilles knows him better than he knows himself. “I… It scared me, to hear my father talk to Than like that. And it’s hardly the first time I’ve heard him berate an underling, but… something about hearing Than _volunteer_ to be cast into Tartarus for me—,”

“I know that you’ve read my Codex. One glance at his entry, and you should have no misgivings as to how he feels for you.” Achilles says. “You are his other half—the light to his darkness, the sun to his moon. Of course he would volunteer for such a punishment—,”

“And that’s terrifying!” Zagreus thinks of Sisyphus, cursed to roll a tremendous boulder up a steep hill—and fall short of his mark _every time_ —for the rest of eternity. How would his father punish Than for helping Zagreus betray him?

“The fact that he loves you so much he is willing to volunteer for such a punishment, or the thought of him enduring such a punishment until your father’s ire abates?” Achilles asks.

“Both?” This… really seems like an ‘all of the above’ type situation. “I just… I feel like, with all of this… there’re so many in the House who didn’t choose to become involved in my escape. My actions forced their hand, one way or another, and—,” his eyes burn with tears that he cannot shed, not now.

He thinks that, if anyone ought to understand, it’ll be Achilles. Achilles, who’d loved Patroclus so deeply that his _rage_ over his death was so powerful it could alter the hand of Fate. Achilles, who’d been so sure that Patroclus could never forgive him for how he’d left things, had been determined to spend the rest of eternity basking in the memories of what once had been. Achilles knows what it feels like to lose someone close, so close that they feel like your other half.

Achilles lays a hand on his shoulder and squeezes lightly. That small gesture conveys so much… the blond fixes him with a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, the pain of what could have been—what once _had_ been—reflected in his tired eyes. How was it possible for a shade to look so _tired_? He doesn’t think that Achilles used to look like this… at least, not before he’d first reached Elysium, not before he’d first met Patroclus (not before he’d given him that bottle of nectar and Achilles had suggested he take a moment to rest his battle-weary bones, and he’d lain his pain bare, tongue loosened by the drink of the gods). How much pain has he caused his dear friends? How many old wounds has he reopened for the sake of knowing the truth?

Is it still worth it? Was it ever worth it?

And then Achilles speaks again. “…When Thanatos offered to be cast into the pits of Tartarus… was that not his way of making a choice?” He asks.

And that… Zagreus supposes that that is _technically_ true, but… “I still feel as though I forced his hand. It’s not a choice that he ever should have had to make—,”

“But it is a choice all the same.” Achilles says softly, firmly. “Your lord father offered Thanatos a choice. Thanatos would rather be cast into the lowest pits than be forced to disparage your efforts to escape the Underworld—that was his choice. You invalidated that choice by using it as impetus to break-up with him.”

“I…” well, when he put it like that, he sounded rather like an asshole, now didn’t he?

His mentor squeezes his shoulder again, “He chose _you_ , Zagreus. Now, it is your turn to do the same.”

Those words make him feel better than he has in quite a while. “Thank you, sir.”

* * *

Thanatos has no way of knowing who it is that he’s come to collect.

There are any number of ways for souls to come to the Underworld. Under ordinary circumstances, he is only responsible for a small percentage of them—he is the god of _gentle_ death, after all; his dominion is mostly over those souls that die of natural causes. And while much of his work comes from Lord Ares’ wars, he very seldom sees actual battle. He is far more familiar with the aspects of war which no-one speaks of (for there is no glory in death from starvation after the enemy has blockaded a small city for _weeks_ and prevented them from receiving critical imports)… and he is growing accustomed to the feel of frost-bitten flesh (delicate skin painted in shades of white and blue and _black_ , somehow even colder than his own and yet…) as Lady Demeter’s endless winter stretches on—

He’s been called to take Zagreus four times now. He’s never prepared to step into the Queen’s garden and see him lying there, motionless… He doesn’t know why, but there’s some part of him that thinks it’s easier to stomach Zag being flayed by Meg, or melted by the bone hydra, or impaled by King Theseus. He’s still _dying_ , true, but Than isn’t the one lowering him into the River Styx. Than isn’t left to watch as his body sinks into the bloody depths, his brain struggling to compute why Zagreus would continue to put himself through literal hell if he knew that the only fate that awaited him was death. Whether he made it out or not… he’d just keep _dying_.

“Good old natural causes got you again, huh?” Hypnos has that same old dopey smile on his face as Zagreus steps out of the pool of blood and shakes himself clean. “It’s been rather quiet today—you’re the first one to step out of there in _hours_.” He laments, rocking back into his quilt.

“Sorry to hear that, mate.” Sometimes he wonders how Hypnos doesn’t go stir crazy, standing—well, _floating_ —in the same spot, day in and day out, staring at a pool of blood that barely moves. He leaves his post so infrequently, he sometimes wonders if there’s some sort of enchantment anchoring the flighty god in place. “Say, I don’t suppose you’ve seen your brother come through here—,”

“Hmm, Thanatos? Yeah, he dropped in a little while ago.” Hypnos nods, “He didn’t stick around for long, though—I think that he had some business with your lord father.”

Zagreus blinks, “With father?” Of course, Than still works for Hades. That wouldn’t change just because they weren’t an item anymore. But still… he can’t help but feel like this meeting wasn’t about business. “Any idea what they were talking about?”

Hypnos shrugs, “It sounded like a run of the mill performance review to me. I have to say… Lord Hades didn’t seem particularly pleased, but… I didn’t get the feeling that that had anything to do with Than’s job performance as of late.”

“What would _he_ have to be upset about?” Hadn’t he already done enough damage?

“I love my brother, truly. But he can be… difficult to deal with at times, especially now that he’s in touch with his _feelings_.” Hypnos wiggles his fingers, “He’s been practically _insufferable_ since the two of you broke up. He’s been having these _mood swings_ —do you know, I actually saw him _crying_ the other day? I thought that the River Phlegethon had frozen over—,”

“He was _what_?” Try as he might, Zagreus can’t actually picture it. If he hadn’t cried when he’d broken-up with him… though, he supposes that he could’ve purposefully been holding back until he was out of sight.

Hypnos is still speaking, but he’s no longer listening. He’s making his way over to his father’s massive desk, his mismatched eyes narrowed in determination. His father looks up from his paperwork just long enough to heave a dramatic sigh, no doubt expecting to field yet another question about Persephone—and while he still has a number of questions about his mother to press his father on, that’s not his focus right now. He needs to talk to him about Thanatos—needs to clear the air, like he should have done when he’d first overheard their conversation. He normally didn’t have a problem standing up to his father, and yet, that day…

He’d just _stood by_ and watched his father lay into the one who’d entrusted him with his fragile, newly awakened heart.

It likely meant next to nothing for him to stand up to his father now, but… he stops in front of the older god’s desk, wishing, not for the first time, that he could float like Thanatos or Hypnos. He can barely make out his father’s face over the edge of the desk (he thinks—no, he _knows_ —that he uses that as an intimidation factor; no matter what, he’s always looking down on you). Still… he straightens his back and opens his mouth to speak—

But Hades is the first one to actually _speak_.

“You ended your relationship with Thanatos.” He says, as if he were commenting on the flavor of a particularly foul vintage. “And here I was, thinking you couldn’t be anymore of an idiot. You never cease to amaze and astound me for all the wrong reasons, boy.”

“I… _what_?” Zagreus’ brows furrow in irritation, “I’m sorry, but _you_ made your feelings about mine and Than’s relationship _quite_ clear—,”

Hades frowns, “I said _nothing_ of the sort. Do not put words in my mouth.” He says. “Where Death choses to sow his wild oats is of no concern to me… though I do wish that he had better choice in partner.”

“Gee, _thank you_ , father.” Zagreus rolls his eyes.

Hades continues on as if Zagreus had not spoken, “His relationships become my concern when they lead him to defy my orders. But make no mistake—I would still take umbrage with his actions even if the two of you were only friends. All you have done in ending the relationship is cause the both of you unnecessary pain.”

“That’s rich, coming from you.” He thinks of how many times his father has split him open with that blasted forked spear of his—he has a lot of nerve, to come at him with talk of ‘unnecessary pain’. “If you _must_ know, I was trying to protect him.” He feels like a petulant child, trying to explain away an injury that they’d caused a younger sibling.

“From _what_?” Hades actually _laughs_. “You were doing a rather poor job of eavesdropping, boy. I know that you heard that I decided not to punish him—,”

“You ‘decided not to punish him’ because you have no-one else capable of doing his job—that’s not the same thing and you _know_ it.” Surely, his father can’t actually have the situation so twisted in his head as to think he’d—what, let Than off the hook with a warning? That has to be the most ludicrous thing he’s ever heard.

“Despite his… questionable allegiance…” Hades pinches the bridge of his nose, his face twisted as though he’s trying to chose each of his words carefully, “he is one of my best workers. And I won’t have him _compromised_ by something as foolish as _emotions_ —,”

Zagreus suddenly recalls Hypnos’ words from earlier, “Was he… really _crying_?”

At first, he doesn’t think that his father is going to answer him. Then, he hears a soft, “He has yet to acclimate himself to the sight of you dying. It would appear that this particular death… affected him more than usual.”

Affected him more than usual… Zagreus bites his bottom lip, the copper tang of blood flooding his tongue. He’d had his suspicion that Thanatos was the one that brought him back when he died on the surface, but he was always too far gone by the time he arrived to know for sure (and on those runs where Than was waiting for him in the House, he never spoke of it—he rarely spoke of his job, unless Zagreus asked him about it explicitly, and even then, he never spoke about Zagreus’ many deaths). Thanatos always spoke of Death like it was a distant, far-off thing… even if he and Death were one and the same.

When Zagreus left without saying goodbye, he wasn’t trying to run from Than, _he was trying to outrun Death_ …

Whereas Hypnos seemed to hyperfixate on what’d killed him that run ( _ahh, you’re having a real hard time trying to beat REDACTED, aren’t you?_ ), Than did everything within his power to make sure that he survived to see the surface…

Than had _cried_ as he gently lowered his body into the River Styx and sent him home.

_Death_ had shed tears for the _dead_. And that… he doesn’t know quite what to do with that. Until he realizes that he’s no longer standing in front of his father’s desk, but rather, is lingering in the annex just outside of his room, his hands extended as Nyx presses something small and soft into his waiting palms.

_Mort_.

“When Thanatos was a godling,” Nyx smiles at the memory, and something that’d frozen in Zagreus’ chest slowly starts to melt, “he used to have the most terrible nightmares. They would get so bad that at times, I had to have Hypnos put him to sleep just to know he would have a few hours of uninterrupted rest.”

And that’s… he hadn’t known that, but he’s not surprised. It can’t be easy for a small child to bear the burden of being the literal embodiment of Death. But still… he doesn’t quite understand what that has to do with anything that’s happening right now. He’s about to say as much when Nyx shakes her head. Humming softly, she closes his hands around Mort, before cupping his hands in her own.

“I gave him Mort to act as a guardian over his dreams, so that he might have a few hours’ respite from the dark deed that’s been laid upon his shoulders.” She says, “I suspect that he gave him to you for much the same reason.”

“Nyx,” he swallows hard. The weight of her words wash over him with all the force of one of Poseidon’s boons—he feels dizzy, winded, _sick_ … It’s all he can do to stare into her eyes and let it all sink in.

“Remember, my child… he didn’t ask for Mort back.”

* * *

Thanatos is sitting on his bed—actually _sitting_ for once, and not floating a couple of inches above the mattress like he normally does. He closes the door to his chambers quietly, hoping to have a couple of minutes to think of what he wants to say, but Than’s head snaps up the second the door clicks shut and the second his mismatched eyes meet Than’s swollen, red-rimmed pair… his stomach drops out and his mind goes blank. He hurries to close the distance between them, tumbling onto the bed with all the grace of a dying antelope and throwing his arms around Than’s shaking form and tugging him into his chest. Than melts into his arms, fitting his body against his own in a familiar, comforting embrace.

Zagreus feels the dampness of Than’s tears upon his skin, and hates himself for being the one to put them there. He swallows hard, “So I… I realize that I may’ve messed up a little.” Than tenses in his arms, and he hurries to amend, “Okay, a lot. I messed up a lot.”

“Did you figure that out all by yourself, or did mother have to spell it out for you?” There’s the barest hint of an edge to his voice, though that could be due, at least in part, to the tears still silently streaking down his cheeks.

“I… admit that I may have had a bit of help discovering just how much of an idiot I was, from Nyx and… _others_.” He doesn’t really want to bring up the fact that their relationship status has been the talk of the House ever since their break-up—he has a feeling that that will just make Than skittish again.

“And you’re here to… _what_ , exactly? Apologize?” He presses.

“Among other things.” Zagreus concedes, “I _am_ sorry, Than. In doing my best to stop being so selfish, I ended up acting even more so. I took your choice from you, didn’t I? Your choice to stand at my side, no matter what.”

Than’s cheeks take on a soft golden hue that’s almost impossible to make out in the soft golden light of his chambers, “I… well, when you put it like that…”

“Than,” Zagreus takes the taller god’s tanned face in his hands, gently smoothing his thumbs over the curve of his sharp cheekbones, “can I kiss you?”

Thanatos opens his mouth, looking as if he’s about to answer… but then he lowers his eyes and nods once, stiffly. Zagreus’ smile is as radiant as the chariot of Helios, and it aches a little to behold it—but then Zagreus’ lips are pressed against his, soft and hesitant and so very, very _warm_. His touch awakens something inside of Thanatos that’d lain dormant since their encounter in the lounge, and he finds himself kissing him back hungrily, his trembling hands tangling in Zagreus’ spiky black hair and _tugging_ until white-hot pinpricks of painful-pleasure spread across his tender scalp…

Zagreus _melts_ in his hands, allowing Than to draw his head back until the long, ivory column of his neck is bared to Death’s hungering eyes. Than deepens the kiss, his tongue searching the honey-sweet depths of Zagreus’ mouth—he can taste the remnants of a bottle of nectar that he’d shared with Achilles… how long ago now? The taste is mingled with something _salty_ … he can taste the fat, the _grease_ from one of the meals Charon offered in his shops to provide Zagreus with a quick health boost. He’d never understand how Zagreus could stomach the stuff, but… tasting it now, mingled with Zagreus’ own, unique flavor… Than thinks that he might have developed a new addiction. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad, if he could savor it from Zagreus’ lips.

He breaks the kiss to nip a trail along the sharp line of Zagreus’ chin. He does not bite hard enough to break the skin—but he makes sure to leave a trail of incredibly visible bruises, Zagreus’ skin blooming in various shades of reds and blues and purples (one of the only benefits of having red blood, in his opinion, is that there can be no mistaking exactly _who_ he belongs to once Than has finished having his way with him—even if work takes him away from the House for days and weeks at a time, his marks on Zagreus will remain). Zagreus moans, barely cognizant of the fact that Than is lowering him down onto the bed beneath him. He is more concerned with anticipating where Than’s next bite will land as the older god focuses his attention on his throat.

“Blood and darkness, but I missed this…” a full-body shiver overwhelms him as Than’s hands make quick work of his tights—he unashamedly spreads his legs just a little wider, encouraging Than to come _closer_.

“Did you now?” Thanatos mumbles, sounding just a little surprised. His swollen eyes regard Zagreus curiously.

“I missed _you_ , Than.” Zagreus admits. He knows that Than likes to tease him sometimes—ask him if he missed him, without ever really expecting an answer—but this… he needs Than to know that it’s the truth. “I _always_ miss you when you’re not here, but… it’s especially bad when we’re fighting.”

Thanatos regards him for a moment, before clearing his throat awkwardly and averting his eyes, “I… I feel the same. I don’t like it when we fight. I don’t… I don’t like feeling like you’re trying to leave me. That you _want_ to leave me.”

Something occurs to Zagreus then, “Was it… this bad when you found out that I’d…?” He can’t even finish his sentence, but he knows from the way that Than tenses that he knows exactly what it is that he’s talking about.

“It…” Thanatos seemed to have an answer at the ready, but at the last moment, chose to bite his tongue instead. Finally, he shakes his head, “No. It was… It hurt, but it wasn’t the same. I already told you, I was angry then. This… This wasn’t anger. It felt like I was… bleeding? I’ve never bled myself, but from what you’ve told me of it, it’s like… rapidly losing a part of yourself that you never consciously registered you needed.”

And that… that _does_ make sense. He knows, on some level, that he needs his blood to remain inside of his body in order to survive—but he doesn’t really _think_ about it until one of the wretched dead slice him open. “I… that sounds horrible. I’m sorry that I put your through that—,”

Thanatos nuzzles into the crook of his neck, licking lazily at one of the bruises he’d gifted Zagreus. “You won’t be doing it again.” There’s a quiet confidence in his voice that warms Zagreus’ heart.

“No, I won’t.” He cards his fingers through Than’s short, silver hair, before bending to press a tender kiss to the crown of his head.

Zagreus is surprised at the ease with which Thanatos removes his chiton, considering that he is pinned to the bed beneath Than’s frame, and the god of death seems utterly uninterested in moving. But Thanatos seems determined to have the prince bare beneath him—and, as Zagreus is discovering, there is no escaping Death’s will. Once he is naked, Than dips his tongue into the hollow of Zagreus’ throat, before setting out to map the familiar contours of his chest.

His pale skin is littered in scars, battle wounds from runs that’d failed that the Styx had failed to wash away. There are dozens of them, and Than pays them all remarkable deference, kissing and suckling and biting at the raised, pinkish skin until he cannot make out the difference between the new love bites and the battle scars. Each time that Thanatos suckles his skin, the line between pain and pleasure blurs as he makes his skin his canvas—using his body to paint it in all sorts of glorious ways. In moments like these, he cannot believe that there was ever a time before _this_ , and he curses the centuries’ that they’d spent dancing around their feelings for one another. Even as the rest of eternity stretches out before them, his heart aches for all that time that was _lost_ —

“T-Than!” Than’s soft, cold lips brush along the underside of his cock, applying just enough pressure to cause Zagreus’ back to arch and his eyes to roll back into his head, “Oh gods, _please_ …”

Thanatos’ lips are cold, but the inside of his mouth is _hot_. His tongue sears his flesh like the magma that floods the River Phlegethon—but unlike the magma, this feels _good_ — _better_ than good. He thinks he might be drooling, but the knot of pleasure that’s twisting his belly makes it rather difficult to care. He stares down at Than through half-lidded eyes as he hollows his cheeks and _sucks_ , his fingers tangling in the other man’s short hair, desperately doing everything within his power to keep from pushing his head down until the head of his cock brushes up against the back of his throat…

Thanatos gives the most mind-numbing blowjobs—which is pretty incredible, considering he hadn’t actually been interested in any sort of physical or emotional relationship before Zagreus had come along. It certainly helps that he doesn’t have to breathe… and has virtually no gag reflex to speak of. He could stay like this for _hours_ (and he had, once or twice, when lapses in his work allowed him to truly indulge himself—he’d nestled in between Zagreus’ knees and swallowed him all the way down to the hilt, and had been content to stay there for as long as Zagreus could force himself to remain still). Unfortunately, Zagreus is not feeling _quite_ patient enough to truly appreciate such treatment—

“Than, _please_ , I… I…” Thanatos swallows around his cock, causing whatever else Zagreus was going to say to be lost in a strangled half-moan, half-sob. He pulls off of his wet, dripping cock with a resounding _pop_.

“What is it, Zagreus?” If it weren’t for the soft golden flush on his dark cheeks, or the very noticeable bulge in the front of his tights, Zagreus would think that the other man was entirely unaffected by everything they’d just done. “Tell me what it is that you want from me.”

“I want _you_. All of you. Gods, Than… I want— _need_ —you to fuck me, _please_ …” He’s not even fully aware of what it is that he’s saying, but it must be what Thanatos wants to hear because the other god is currently fishing around in his bedside table for the vial of oil they keep on hand for precious, stolen moments such as these—

“Lay back down on your back and spread your legs wide for me…” Zagreus scrambles to do as Than has instructed, his mismatched eyes focused on the slightly viscous lavender oil that’s currently seeping through Than’s fingers.

“Fuck, but if I weren’t certain that you’d say no—,”

Thanatos is already shaking his head, “I’m not going to take you without prep, Zag.”

Than’s finger teases around his puckered entrance, working the slick, sweetly scented oil into his skin until it is soft and pliant beneath his hand. The first finger slides inside easily enough—it’s not particularly thick, but it is _cold_ , and Zagreus shivers, reminding himself to breathe through the shock of it (it never takes particularly long for Thanatos to warm up inside of him, anyhow). Than is still for a moment, allowing Zagreus’ body to grow accustomed to the intrusion, before he starts to move… slowly at first, his molten eyes following the movement of his finger as it disappears inside Zagreus’ tight little hole, the muscles of his anus contracting around the digit so very sweetly—

He doesn’t start to pick up the pace until Zagreus throws his arms around his neck and pleads with him desperately, “T-Than… I can take it—I need more, _please_ …”

“Shh…” Than presses a soothing kiss to his temple as he works a second finger inside of him and scissors them slowly. He faces the slightest bit of resistance, but it takes only a handful of seconds for Zagreus to relax enough to take all of him. “How does that feel? Is it too much?”

His mismatched eyes flutter as color rises in his cheeks, “Not e-enough… never… Than…”

With his free hand, Than runs his thumb along Zagreus’ bottom lip. The younger god is biting down on the soft flesh hard enough to draw blood, which simply won’t do, “Are you going to cum before I have a chance to be inside of you, Zagreus?”

“M-Maybe…” He knows that that’s not the right answer—or, at least, it’s not the answer that Than was looking for—but he’s learned by now that honesty is the best policy when it comes to dealing with Than’s whims in the bedroom. If he has a problem with Zagreus cumming so soon, he’ll adjust his course accordingly.

“Mmm…” he does not offer him anything else by way of verbal response—instead, he draws his hand back just far enough to comfortably inch the third and final finger inside and continues to work him open.

“G-Gods…”

Than, thankfully, doesn’t drag out the preparation any more than is absolutely necessary. It would seem that he is every bit as desperate to be inside of Zagreus as Zagreus is to feel him inside of him.

They both need to take this chance to reaffirm that the other is there, that they’d found their way back to one another despite everything that’d happened. That, even if they weren’t quite at ‘okay’ yet, they were well on their way there.

Thanatos doesn’t bother to fully divest himself of his tights, nor does he remove his chiton. He lowers the black material just enough to free his aching manhood, using the last of the oil to coat it liberally before spreading Zagreus’ thighs as wide as possible and lining himself up with his aching channel. The excess of oil means that he slides in easily, the careful prep means that he meets little to no resistance along the way. When at last he is buried to the hilt, he moans softly, his swollen eyes fluttering shut as his face twists into an expression of absolute bliss. Zagreus hooks an arm around his neck to pull him down to his level and plants a couple of feather-light kisses on his eyelids—a silent apology for the tears that neither were willing to acknowledge in that moment.

And then it just kind of… _happens_ , “I… I love you, Than.” He’s not even fully aware of what it is that he’s saying in that moment, not until Than stops moving to stare at him like he’d just suggested they try skinny dipping in the River Phlegethon. But then he realizes… he really, truly means it.

“Zagreus, I…” Thanatos looks a little lost, and more than a little panicked. Zagreus smiles and presses a finger to his lips.

“You don’t have to say anything now. I just… I’ve known for a while, I think. And I wanted you to know it, too.”

The god of death stares at him for a moment, before nodding. Hitching one of Zagreus’ leanly muscled legs up over his shoulder, he starts to thrust—slow and deep. His hands, now free, chart a course over Zagreus’ bruised chest and belly, pressing down on the marks that he’d made and filling Zagreus with a not-unpleasant _ache_. It’s not long before the head of his cock finds Zagreus’ prostate, and as soon as it presses up against that sensitive little gland, Zagreus’ is _gone_. He screams Than’s name loud enough that the entire House has to know what it is that they’re up to and makes a thorough mess of both Than’s clothes and his own stomach.

Than’s thrusts slow a second later, and Zagreus is about to ask why he’s stopping when Thanatos pulls out and a literal torrent of seed comes spilling out after. “I… that was… _wow_ …”

Than teleports out of the room, only to return a moment later with a warm washcloth. He presses it between Zagreus’ thighs gently, “How do you feel? You’re not too sore?”

“I feel…” he swallows, taking stock of his body so that he can give Thanatos an accurate answer. “Good. Great, even. Better than I have since…” he trails off, not really wanting to reopen old wounds when it feels like they may have kissed (err, fucked) and made up.

Thanatos seems to consider this for a moment, before nodding, “Good.”

* * *

A short while later, they’re lying together in Zagreus’ freshly-made bed. Zagreus knows that they are operating on borrowed time—it is only a matter of time before work pulls Thanatos away from him again for who knows how long. And he… well, he thinks that they’re in a better place than they were when they’d last spoken, but he wants to be _sure_. He wants to know that they’re officially back together, wants to know that he didn’t irrevocably fuck up the one good thing to happen in his life in a very, _very_ long time.

Than is reclining beside him, combing his fingers through Zagreus’ dark hair as he stares up at the ceiling, deep in thought. Zagreus is beginning to learn that silence doesn’t always have to be _bad_ , at least, not where Than is concerned—but right now, all the silence is serving to do is prolong the inevitable and make him worry about all of the little ‘what ifs’. What if Than doesn’t want him back after all this? What if their relationship can no longer be romantic—or worse, what if they can no longer be friends? He would understand, of course. He would never wish to push a relationship onto Than that the other didn’t want. But that didn’t mean that the idea of losing everything that they’d worked so hard to gain didn’t _hurt_ —

“You’re thinking too loudly.” Thanatos says, his voice soft. “Do you plan on telling me what it is that’s on your mind, or do you want me to sit here and try to guess?” If he’s not mistaken, he thinks he detects a bit of humor in his tone.

“I… are we okay, Than?” He asks. “I mean, I kind of hope that we’re okay… I don’t think you would’ve done _that_ with me if you were still mad at me—and you have every right to still be mad at me, what I did was really shitty and I don’t expect you to just forget about it just because I apologized. But, I… _ugh_. This is coming out all wrong.”

Thanatos seems to consider him for a moment, before he cups his fingers up underneath Zagreus’ chin and murmurs, “I love you, too.”

Zagreus, ever the epitome of grace, proceeds to choke on the air, “I—you— _what was that_ , now?”

Thanatos smiles—a rare, genuine smile—but does not repeat himself. Instead, he rubs at his still-swollen eyes and says, “And you will not tell another soul that you saw anything even _remotely_ close to tears in my eyes, understand?”

Zagreus decides not to mention that he’s fairly certain the entire House witnessed him crying. “Your secret is safe with me, love.”


End file.
